


In the Sun

by escribo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Unfinished wip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 07:03:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escribo/pseuds/escribo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Sirius was sorted in Slytherin and Remus isn't a werewolf</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Unfortunately, I will not be able to finish this story. I hope you enjoy what is here and can imagine an ending if you choose to read it.

i.

Sirius mechanically moved his hands over the piano keys in a command performance for his mother, though she barely took notice. Her voice carried loud over the music, as she and her friends lingered over their coffee. He hated being put on display, just another jewel like those that lined her fingers.

  Regulus, the spare, was no doubt already off to the beach with his friends. He had no talents to speak of, Sirius thought bitterly, and was never missed. There were no speeches ringing in his ears about _responsibility_ and _family honor_ ; those belonged exclusively to Sirius. They came with the inheritance, with being the first born, and he hated it all but still he played on. There was nothing else he could--no other way to be.  

The piece was one that he had played many times before and he had no need for the sheet music laid out in front of him or the girl who dutifully turned the pages. He played without thinking, his eyes moving blandly over his mother and her friends, the tea room where they’d had lunch, the high windows and the gardens beyond. It was all so familiar, the same things and the same people he saw every summer, so much so that he nearly missed the boy half-hidden in the shadows behind the door, his hands filled with a stack of dishes.

Remus Lupin, Sirius remembered, a disaster in Potions though he rivaled Sirius for top marks in Defense against the Dark Arts. A Gryffindor. It occurred to Sirius that perhaps he was listening to the music, Sirius' music--that he was enjoying it. The concept was so novel that Sirius' fingers tripped on the keyboard, sounding loudly on a sharp note, and Remus jumped, his eyes opening (had he noticed they were closed?) and met Sirius' for a moment before he scurried away back toward the kitchens.  

For the rest of the evening Sirius watched for Remus but only caught sight of him once more when it was Sirius' turn to hide. From behind the heavy curtains separating the the vast dining halls from the ball room, he could overhear some girls from where they stood in the door, whispering as Remus helped to clear the tables after dinner.   

 _Muggle born_ , they said. _Gryffindor_.   Beneath their notice, they didn’t say but Sirius knew--forbidden fruit. _Delicious_ , one laughed, made brave in their little group by entitlement to speak as though Remus wasn’t there, as if he couldn’t hear, though his cheeks burned red. 

   _Not as handsome as your Sirius, Natasha._   

 _But he’d do_ , she answered, _at least for a night_.  

Sirius watched Remus, too, at how even in the ill fitting robes of the servants, Remus stood out. He was tall, his hair golden in the last remnants of sunlight slanting in from the high windows. His nose was a bit too big for his thin face but his lips were full and cherry pink and his eyes deep brown. He knew they could flash intelligence and amusement by turn--it wasn't the first time Sirius had noticed Remus, not even close, but he'd never allowed himself to think about it before. Sirius could absolutely see the attraction and his own cheeks burned as he thought about maybe more than a night, more than a turn because Remus was all the things that Sirius wasn’t and he wanted that. He was overwhelmed by his desire for the boy who had actually stopped to listen to his music, by the rush of possessiveness and twist of disgust in his guts for the girls and what he saw of himself in them.   

ii.

 The book was second hand and bought with part of Remus’ first pay, the rest hidden away where neither his mother nor her boyfriend could find it. They wouldn’t want the book, its spine broken and several pages marked in a cramped hand with words he could barely make out. It was about bull fighters in Spain, a place he’d never been, about unrequited love, and loneliness. He’d already read it once, alone in his room, his wand providing the weak light to read by because his mother didn’t like him to waste the candles, and now again on the beach.   

Remus had buried his feet into the warm sand, his knees pressed against his chest, his book opened on the ground in front of him. Every now and again, Remus turned a page or three or four. He was reading his favorite bits and the favorite bits of the previous owner. The sun was warm on his back. He knew he’d be burnt, could feel the skin stretching tight across his shoulders, but didn’t care. It was better than being in the tiny, dark cottage where he was unwanted, or the sprawling hotel where he was only wanted for his ability to obey orders and keep quiet. Here it was warm but there was a breeze off the sea, and he was alone, with nothing but the wind and his own thoughts. Or rather, he had been alone for the first two weeks of the summer before someone else had discovered his cove.

At first, Sirius Black had merely stood on the bluff, his hands settled deep into his pockets, and watched the sea, Remus had supposed. After a few days, Remus had begun to believe that maybe he couldn’t be seen after all but had checked the vantage point himself one day and discovered that there was nothing else to see beyond the horizon and Remus. Then Remus thought maybe Sirius was plotting revenge for some prank that James had masterminded, House pride important enough that the fact that Remus was rarely involved mattered little. No revenge came, though, and Sirius seemed content enough to keep his distance and watch so Remus relaxed enough to let him get on with it and not spare another thought for the strange proclivities of Slytherins.

  It was only three days after Remus let his guard go that Sirius ventured forth, scrabbling down the steep path on his bottom and then picking his careful way through the sand to where Remus sat. Remus wished he had not left his wand hidden beneath the loose floorboard in his bedroom, and had to fight the very unGryffindor-like urge to run away as he remembered Sirius’ skill when they’d learned to duel. He’d bested James that day, though Remus’ sense of fair play wouldn’t let him forget that Sirius had never used more force than necessary to disarm James and had returned his wand immediately. It was that memory that let Remus sit still and quiet while Sirius came to stand a few feet away, waiting it seemed until Remus looked up.

  When he finally did, Sirius dropped to his knees and crawled forward, startling Remus though he only sat up straighter, his mouth falling open slightly as if he might warn Sirius off but thought better of it. Sirius sat cross-legged next to Remus and pulled out a lumpy package from his pocket. He took his time unwrapping it and Remus couldn’t help but watch, leaning forward a bit, thinking about curiosity and cats and any number of other warnings that his mother had drilled into him when he was still young enough to listen and be frightened by them.   

Finally the package was unwrapped and Remus could see they were biscuits, thick, moist, almond flavored biscuits sprinkled with icing sugar. Remus had offered plates and plates of them at lunches and teas at the dining room in the hotel, never allowed to have one for himself. When he didn’t take one right away, Sirius picked one up and held it out. For a moment, he had a vision of Sirius leaning over his cauldron, potions and poisons at his ready, and stared at Sirius for a long time before he finally took the biscuit, his breakfast a distant memory, and nibbled on the edges, savouring it, his eyes on the horizon. When he was finished and had licked his fingers clean, Sirius held out the second biscuit and after a beat, Remus took it, too. Sirius shoved the napkin into his pocket and dusted his hands of icing sugar, his lips quirking up into a half smile. For a while, they sat still in silence, looking out over the water, until Sirius checked his watch and picked his way back up the bluff, gone without a word.   

iii.

   
The next day Sirius brought Remus a bottle of pumpkin fizz, still a little cold as they passed it back and forth, and the day after that, a handful of fat strawberries. The fourth day, Remus wasn't there but Sirius saw him that night as Remus worked as a servant at the dinner party Sirius was forced to attend. Sirius was sat next to the girl, Natasha Malfoy, a cousin to whom he was meant to be married when he left Hogwarts. She was a Slytherin as well, exceptionally pretty if a bit stupid but then his father often said a smart girl wasn’t worth the trouble. She sat quietly next to Sirius, her pale hair and skin a stark contrast to Sirius' black hair and deep tan. She kept her hand on his arm throughout the soup and fish courses, picking at her food like a bird and, to complete the impression, tittering across the table to her friend while Sirius' mother beamed at them both.

Sirius hated her and he hated wearing dress robes in the middle of summer, and he hated fish, and was busy hating pretty much everything in the world when the servants, whose presence he had never noticed before, were suddenly part of his reality as he realized it was Remus who was refilling his mother's wine glass. Sirius blushed, his pulse quickened, and then Remus had moved on and Sirius felt like he was drowning. After dinner, Sirius was made to perform on the piano again, which he hated, too, and didn’t have a chance to see Remus again.

Late that night, he climbed out his window and ran to the cove because he felt that if he stayed beneath his father's roof for one more moment he would suffocate. He was surprised when he found Remus there, sitting still and quiet as he looked out over the waves. Sirius searched his pockets but found nothing except an old pepper imp. He picked off the lint and offered it up, relieved somehow when Remus took it, ate it, breathed a small burst of fire into the dark and then fell onto his back into the sand, laughing. When Remus reached out to wrap his hand around Sirius' bare ankle as if anchoring him to the ground, Sirius smiled.

"I like when you play the piano," Remus said after a while, his eyes still fixed on the dark sky above them.  

 "I'm not very good."   

"You sound brilliant to me." 

Sirius rested his forehead onto his knees to hide his grin. 

"The girl sitting next to you at dinner was Natasha Malfoy, right? Lucius Malfoy's sister."   

"Yeah."   

"Are you going to marry her?"   

"We were betrothed to one another when we were three." Sirius raised his head to look over the sea, biting his lip before he said the thing he'd long thought but never had the nerve to say aloud. "I'm not going to marry her, though. I hate her. I'm more interested in you."  

 He looked down at Remus, expecting shock or something worse, but it wasn’t there. Remus just looked at him steadily, the same half smile on his lips as he listened. Sirius felt something expand wildly in his chest and had to look away, afraid he would embarrass himself if he didn't. He only just had enough courage left to press his fingertips against Remus' long fingers, which were still wrapped comfortably about his ankle, and felt sure and safe for the first time in his life.


	2. Chapter 2

iv.

It was three days before Remus saw Sirius again. There was a dance and Sirius was in dress robes, looking beautiful and elegant if miserable, and Remus still in his ill fitting servants’ garment holding a tray of glasses. Sirius was stalking Remus a bit but Remus never looked at him, never directly, never took the chance. This job meant he wouldn’t have to ask his mum for money for school books and supplies or new robes that fit and a pair of shoes that didn’t pinch and hadn’t been resoled.

Still, near the end of his shift he let himself be caught in the hallway near the kitchen, let Sirius pull him outside and into the garden before he even thought about protesting. They were hidden against the building, the night cool in comparison to the crowded ballroom, and Sirius was very close. He held out a small chocolate that had melted slightly on his fingers and Remus was tempted by more than just the bit of sweet. He shook his head with more resolution than he felt. "I'll get in trouble if someone thinks I'm eating food meant for the guests."

Sirius dropped the bit into the grass, wiping his hand against his robes, and then roughly pressed his fingers against Remus’ wrist. It almost hurt but Remus didn't pull away. Sirius' voice, when he spoke, sounded desperate. It wasn't something he had ever expected considering how distant, how cold Sirius had always been at school.

"Promise you'll meet me tonight?" Sirius whispered, stepping even closer.

For a moment Remus thought that maybe his resolve would extend to saying no to Sirius' question. It would be very late by the time the dance ended and he'd helped clean up. He had to work again in the morning, setting up a luncheon for a witches' group. Sirius' mother would be there. Stolen bits of chocolate would be the least of his concerns if she found out that Remus had been with her son the night before. 

Sirius pressed harder against Remus' skin, curling his long fingers around the delicate bones of Remus' wrist, and Remus could feel him tremble slightly, waiting for an answer. Sirius' eyes were pale gray in the moonlight, like the sea when it stormed and just as intense. Remus meant to say no--he tried to say no but nodded his head instead and pulled away quickly, disappearing back inside and into the kitchens where Sirius couldn't follow. He had to press his hand to chest to catch his breath before he picked up another tray.

v.

It was very late when the dance finally ended and Sirius could sneak out of his room. He ran all the way to the cove, afraid it was too late. He was relieved when he found Remus waiting for him, his arms wrapped around his thin chest as he stood on the bluff. "Are you well, Remus?" he asked, afraid, too, of the answer.

"Tired."

Remus smiled at him but it faded quickly, and Sirius stepped closer, unsure if he could or should touch Remus but wanting to until his fingers burned with the need. When he looked back up at Remus’ face, he saw the same patience that Sirius had sometimes seen from Professor McGonagall when she helped a student work through a problem, waiting on them to come up with the answer on their own, and it suddenly clicked into place. Quick, before he could think about it too hard, Sirius leaned in and kissed Remus, surprised when he felt rather than saw the smile come back. It was brilliant, more so when Remus stepped closer, his hands settling onto Sirius' waist as he kissed back.

Every day and night for the next two weeks after that, as often as they could manage, they would meet and kiss and talk and gently rub against one another with soft gasps. In the long grass in the field above the bluff or in the warm sand, the sun beating down on them, they'd kissed until their lips were bruised and swollen and then Sirius would rest his head on Remus' chest, feeling long and lazy and very, very good and right with the world, the best he’d ever felt.

Sometimes at night when they would creep out of their beds to meet, Sirius would wrap his arms around Remus' body from behind and hold him as they watched the stars and moon climb higher. He would whisper questions for which he'd always wanted answers but had never had the nerve to ask or seek out on his own. How does it feel to play quidditch and to be able to fly so fast and so high? He was jealous of his brother being on the quidditch team when he was never allowed, and he told that to Remus, too. How do muggle born witches and wizards find out about Hogwarts, about their magic? His fascination for Muggles was another secret he'd never told another person, and Remus answered all his questions and some he hadn't known to ask. Why did Remus let Sirius kiss him that first time? For that, Remus had no answer to give, at least none that gave a better answer than his lips and hands could.   

One night, Remus told Sirius that James Potter was coming to spend the week with his aunt. Sirius' hands had clutched a bit tighter where they had been exploring Remus' body. "Did you tell him about us?"   

"No."   

"Are you going to?"   

"Would it bother you if I did?"   

"I don't know." He buried his face into Remus' neck and breathed deeply his warm scent. Remus smelled like sunshine and wind and stars and everything good like boys and sweat and running through the grass and swimming until his arms ached. 

Sirius hated to think of what would happen when the end of summer came, when they went back to Hogwarts and Sirius was supposed to hate Remus for being a Gryffindor, and then after when he would have to marry Natasha and live the life his parents had planned for him when he was still in the womb. Years stretched out before him, years of not being able to touch or smell or taste Remus, and it made him feel cold, as if he'd just walked through a ghost, and alone, burning only with his hate for everything and everyone, and most of all himself.   

"I don't want anyone else to kiss you," Sirius whispered urgently against Remus' throat, half hoping that Remus hadn't heard him at all. It was the only thing he could think to say, and he was embarrassed by it--confused, more so when he heard Remus laugh. He closed his eyes tightly, wanting to hear that sound for forever. "I don't."   

"I don't kiss James. He's my best friend. He's not--it's not like this."   

"I only ever want you to be like this with me," Sirius insisted, knowing he sounded spoiled and petulant but not caring at all. Remus gave him that patient smile again and Sirius blushed and buried his face into Remus' shoulder, thinking that maybe he knew the answer here, too, but was afraid to give it. Instead, he said, "if my father ever found out--"   

"Then we'll wait until we're 17 and it won't matter. Can you wait?"   Sirius nodded, not saying that even then it would matter to his father, that this was the first time that Sirius had ever defied his family's wishes and that he'd only ever done it because of Remus.

vi.

     
The week that James was there, Sirius saw more of him at events than he did of Remus. A week of not touching or kissing Remus, of not hearing his laughter, of watching him fade into the background until Sirius sometimes had to force himself to see Remus. He found himself to be extremely tetchy during this week--miserable, arguing with his brother, making tiny rebellions against his parents, his mother quicker to strike with an open hand than his father, whose anger would simmer before boiling over hot and fast all at once.    

On Saturday afternoon, there was a tea at the club, and Sirius was nearly vibrating with nerves and longing. Natasha had had her hand on his arm for what felt like hours, showing him off to her friends as if she's won a prize, and he couldn't bear it. Afterward, he was made to sit with his mother for forty long minutes while they sipped tea and ate tiny sandwiches. The women and their children criticized the others in the room, especially _that Potter boy who has turned out so wild. Friends with muggle-borns, did you know_ , they whispered greedily (while that Potter boy laughed merrily at his aunt's table and once made Remus give a smile, which forced Sirius' guts to twist into jealous knots that he couldn't be quite so free) in a strange reaffirmation of their allegiance to blood lines and purity. Remus served the tea quietly, clearing away dishes and Sirius had to force himself not to look, not to scream.

And then, as the witches turned themselves out to the gardens and into the small terraced rooms, his mother demanded that he play. He thought to refuse, biting at his lip to work out the words and work up the courage, but, just when he thought he might have actually found the strength, he happened to look up into the dining room they'd just left and saw Remus there, standing quite still. He knew Remus was waiting to hear him play, and all protests died on his tongue.

Sirius sat himself at the piano, pushing his robe off in the heat and rolling up his sleeves. He played from memory, slowly, trying to make it the best he's ever done, and watched as Remus slid into the room, hid himself from the view of the ladies on the terrace behind the curtains. He leaned his head back against the wall, Sirius could see the long column of his throat and thought about kissing him. When Sirius was almost done, he saw that Remus' eyes were closed as he listened to the last few notes, and Sirius thought he'd never seen anything more beautiful. The lightness of the next piece Sirius began to play clearly surprised Remus, and he opened his eyes to smile at Sirius, knowing that Sirius was playing just for him. By the third piece, Sirius had forgotten everything except Remus and performed happily and effortlessly for the first time in his life.

Sirius was in the middle of the Aria from the Goldberg Variations when Natasha came into the room with her friends, all of them tittering loudly. Remus heard them, too, and stepped from the room almost without being seen before Natasha spoke.

"Oh, you, boy," she said, her tone high and nasal. "Fetch us some pumpkin juice? It's ghastly hot out there."

Sirius' hands froze above the keyboard so that Natasha's voice rang out and Sirius could hear Remus' whispered, _yes, ma'am_ as he slid from the room. Sirius stopped playing altogether after that and stood at the window with his hands in his pockets, brooding, when Remus was suddenly at his elbow, a last glass of iced pumpkin juice on the tray alongside some almond biscuits.    

"The back gardens are particularly lovely, sir," Remus whispered. "You might find the air more refreshing, especially just as the sun is setting."   

"Yes, thank you," Sirius said, daring to look at Remus before Remus turned away and backed from the room.   

Waiting was terrible but then, just at dusk, Sirius found the small opening in the hedge that bordered the back garden and followed Remus through it. Their hands clasped together as Remus led him away and through the thick woods until Sirius, ever impatient, pushed Remus against the trunk of an ancient oak tree and kissed him.    

"I hate them," he said fiercely, pausing only long enough to press another kiss to Remus' mouth. "I hate to hear them talk to you like that."   

"You used to talk to me like that," Remus said as he reached for the ribbon that held back Sirius’ hair. He pulled it loose, slipping it into his pocket.    

"I didn't!" Sirius protested though he knew it was true.   

Remus laughed at him, the sound high and clear. "Maybe you will again."   

"Stop. I love you," Sirius said, his voice taking on that desperate pitch that it had never held before this summer. He felt stupid and a bit reckless, realizing that he'd never said it before to anyone. He pulled away a bit so that he could see Remus' face, afraid he would laugh again, but Remus didn't laugh.    

Remus took Sirius' face between his hands, cradling his head and pressing his fingertips into the tender spots beneath Sirius' jaw, before he kissed Sirius' lips, his nose, his forehead. He met Sirius' eyes and Sirius wanted to look away but forced himself to be still until Remus' scrutiny. It was a long time before Remus answered him. "I think you mean that." 

"I do, Remus. I do."


End file.
